


Worry

by BlueTeamSucks



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, season 12, wash worrying about tucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTeamSucks/pseuds/BlueTeamSucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sounds of muffled voices filled Washington's ears as he slowly opened his eyes. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but it definitely wasn't his cell. For one thing, there weren't any chains on the walls. Instead, the walls looked clean. It was eerily similar to the Mother of Invention's sick bay, a place that he used to be very familiar with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worry

The sounds of muffled voices filled Washington's ears as he slowly opened his eyes. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but it definitely wasn't his cell. For one thing, there weren't any chains on the walls. Instead, the walls looked clean. It was eerily similar to the Mother of Invention's sick bay, a place that he used to be very familiar with.

Wash turned his head to the right, flinching at the stiffness of his neck. There was a plastic nightstand with a glass of water on it. Wash's throat was dry but he didn't want to move to get it.

On his left, there was another cot with an unconscious man on it. A bandage was wrapped around his stomach, red staining the white fabric.

He must be in a hospital. That would probably explain the IV in his hand. Wash contemplated tugging it out, but quickly decided against that. It would do more harm then good.

Wash looked down at himself and stifled a groan. His armor was gone and he was shirtless. There were countless cuts, scrapes, and bruises littering his body. His left arm was in a sling, no wonder it hurt so much. Wash could feel the long gash on his leg through the stupid hospital pants.

Feeling more alert now, Wash pushed himself into a sitting position. It hurt briefly, but nothing too bad. Wash reached for the glass of water and gulped it down greedily. He almost spilled it at least twice while using his right hand.

As Wash set the glass back down, somebody walked up next to him. He looked over at her and shifted away ever so subtly. She still caught his nervous movement.

"Relax. I'm a medic, I just need to make sure you don't have a concussion. What's your name?"

Wash eyed her warily. "Washington. Where am I?"

"The Rebel base. How do you feel? Any nausea, sensitivity to light, or headaches?"

"Fine, a little bit of a headache, maybe a tiny bit dizzy. How'd I end up here?" She seemed to be happy to answer his questions as long as he answered hers.

She pulled out a flashlight. "We rescued you. Look at the light." She shone the flashlight in Wash's eyes. He blinked, then did as he was told. She clicked the light off. "You have a small concussion, don't do anything too exciting."

Wash snorted. "I think that I can do that."

"Also, Kimball wanted to see you when you got out of here. Your clothes are in the top drawer of the nightstand, but no armor for you yet." She clipped his IV off and replaced it with a bandage. The guy in the cot next to Wash groaned and she turned away. "Excuse me."

She leaned over him and knit her eyebrows together in worry. "How are you feeling Palomo?"

Wash looked away when the guy chocked out a sob. He couldn't stand watching people cry. He pulled a pair of jeans and a simple gray T-shirt out of the nightstand and tugged them on, moving as slowly and as carefully as he could.

As soon as he was dressed, Wash shuffled out of the hospital, avoiding making eye contact with the dozens of wounded people. He walked out of the hospital and into a base. It took him about two minutes of aimless wandering and several confused glances from passing soldiers to realize that he had no idea where he was going, or even who Kimball was.

"AGENT WASHINGTON!"

Wash barely had time to turn around before a very large, very heavily armored Caboose picked him up and squeezed as hard as he could. Which was pretty hard.

"Hey Caboose. It's good to see you, buddy." Wash grinned, despite feeling like his ribs were about to crack.

"It's good to see you too, Washington!" Caboose laughed happily. "I missed you just as much as I miss Church, I was worried!"

Wash felt his heart break. He couldn't imagine how Caboose must've felt, losing two of his friends in such a short amount of time. No, three friends counting Freckles. Wash wasn't sure if Caboose knew that Freckles was gone, so he decided not to mention it.

Wash patted Caboose with his good hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting Caboose."

"It's okay, Washington! I'm glad you're awake now!"

Wash nodded in agreement, but was slightly distracted by the fact that his feet were still not touching the ground.

"Caboose! Put Wash down, that probably hurts!" The familiar, bossy voice of Simmons came from behind him.

When Caboose nodded and gently let go of Wash, he turned to Simmons and grinned. He was in armor, except for his helmet, which was tucked under his arm. He looked alright, a little bit tired and beat up, but he seemed different. Almost like he was more confident. Simmons gave him a confused look and Wash shrugged.

"It's time for lunch if you want to come eat. I'm sure Kimball can wait a few more minutes," Simmons offered hesitantly. It took Wash a moment to realize that Simmons had never seen him smile, which explained how weirded out he was. This only made Wash grin wider.

Caboose gasped happily. "Washington, please oh please! The food is really yummy, you should probably get some before Grif eats it all though."

Whoever Kimball was, they could wait. Wash nodded, uncharacteristically enthusiastic about eating lunch. For how much he hated him, Wash was actually eager to see Grif. He wouldn't admit it, but he was pretty excited to be with Tucker again as well.

"Yay!" Caboose grabbed Wash's hand and he didn't protest when he was pulled into the mess hall.

It was loud, unorganized, and dirty. Washington loved it. There were soldiers filling the benches at every table and they were all talking over each other. Oddly enough, it reminded Wash of middle school, back when everything was fairly simple.

He was pulled to the back, where the amount of people started to thin out. Caboose pointed out a seat for him to sit in, next to a girl with braids and streaks of red in her brown hair and a guy with unruly red hair and more freckles than Wash. Across from the spot, there was an extremely bored looking guy with dark skin, orange hair that was shaved off on one side, and several tattoos and piercings.

Wash allowed himself to be pushed onto the bench. The guy with red hair stopped talking and looked over at him in surprise. Caboose clapped him on the shoulders. "Matthews, this is Agent Washington! He's awake now! Okay, I'm going to go get food now!"

Matthews's jaw dropped and his cheeks turned pink at the mention of Wash's name. The girl with the braids audibly gasped and even the guy who looked ready to fall asleep perked up a bit. Wash just had time to shoot Simmons a confused look before he was bombarded with questions.

"Were you really apart of Project Freelancer?" The girl asked, wide eyed.

"Dude, Captain Grif said you took on The Meta, is that true?" The guy across from him questioned, looking mildly interested now.

"Did he really have the strength of twenty bears? And a brute shot that Captain Grif stole? And did Captain Grif really fall off the same cliff that The Meta fell off of, but saved himself just in time?" Matthews spit out excitedly.

Wash blinked in surprise. "Uhhh... I was a Freelancer, yeah. Um, I fought The Meta several times, some of them back when he was Agent Maine. He definitely was really strong, I don't know about twenty though. I wouldn't say Grif stole- Wait did you say Captain?"

"Hey loser." Grif sat down heavily across from Matthews. He dug into his food, not saying anything else.

"Good afternoon, sir." Matthews grinned hopefully at Grif.

Grif only rolled his eyes in response. "Stop greeting me, Matthews. Bitters doesn't greet me and he's my favorite. Just do what he does and eventually you'll stop being such a kissass."

Bitters grunted as Matthews's face fell. Wash glared at Grif.

"The Meta was a Freelancer?" The girl whispered in amazement.

Wash turned to her and nodded. "Yeah, his AI drove him insane and forced him to kill other Freelancers for their equipment. He used to be a good guy." Wash paused, before deciding that that wasn't the right word. "Okay, he was a decent guy."

The table fell silent until somebody whispered, "That is the second most metal thing I have ever heard."

Everybody erupted into conversation at once. Wash felt slightly grateful that none of it was directed at him.

Suddenly, a tray of food was placed in front of him and Caboose was talking to the girl next to him. "Jensen, can you please sit somewhere else? I would like to be next to Washington."

Jensen nodded and stood up. "Yes, sir!" Wash noticed that she had a lisp, maybe she had braces... Why was she calling Caboose sir?

Caboose sat down next to him and started talking. "Sarge and Donut are taking naps right now, not in the hospital, in their rooms. I'll tell them that you're awake, they were worried about you, said you got hurt. But you're not hurt right now, right? It's been fun here, but I would like to leave as soon as we can because I want to go back to Blood Gulch. Ms. Kimball is really nice, but she makes me do exercises, but not as nice as you. Hi Felix!"

Wash recognized the man that sat down next to Bitters. He was the merc that had come to them first. Felix glanced up at Caboose, then seemed to notice Wash. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating." Wash pointed at the tray of food that he had been eating from.

"Dude, Kimball said that she's looking for you. She's a little bit pissed, so you might want to go now." Felix raised his eyebrows as if this should increase Wash's urgency.

Wash frowned. Whoever Kimball was, Wash was starting to like her less and less. He just wanted to spend time with his friends. He hadn't even seen Tucker yet!

Felix stood up, then beckoned for Wash to follow him. "Come on, I can take you to her if you're afraid of getting lost."

Wash reluctantly stood up. "Alright. Caboose, I'll talk to you later."

Caboose was already chattering happily with Mattews as Wash walked away. Felix led him out of the mess hall and down a long hall. Felix kept glancing behind his shoulder as if to make sure Wash hadn't run away or collapsed.

Eventually they reached a room at the end of the hallway. Felix knocked on it, not bothering to be gentle. A woman's voice came from inside. "Come in."

Felix pushed him forward, then left Wash completely alone. Wash rolled his eyes as he opened the door.

Kimball was out of armor. Wash knew that she had armor because it was in a neat pile on the floor. She looked stressed. There were dark circles under her eyes like she hadn't slept for days. Her skin was brown and it was scarred in several places. Kimball's hair was short and messy, probably easier for wearing helmets.

"Washington. I'm glad you're alright. You had us worried for a minute," she reached out a hand. "I'm Kimball, the leader of the Rebel army."

Wash shook her hand. "Sounds like you already know who I am."

Kimball smiled grimly. "Yes, I do. Please, sit." She gestured to a chair in front of a desk. Washington sat.

She took her place behind the desk, sitting in her own chair. Kimball leaned toward him, a serious expression on her face. Wash returned her stare.

"Do you remember what happened, Washington?" Kimball asked after a long silence.

Wash cocked an eyebrow. "Do I remember Locus torturing me and my friends? Yes, I won't be forgetting it anytime soon."

Kimball frowned unhappily. "I'm sorry that the Feds took such drastic measures. Do you remember being rescued by us? You were very weak and had lost a lot of blood at the time, so I wouldn't blame you if you can't recall it."

Shaking his head, Wash sighed. "It's hazy. There was lots of shouting and shooting. Tucker was there. I think that he was carrying me." Wash's stomach churned. Where was Tucker? Wash had thought that he would be by his bedside, waiting for him in the hospital. Just like in the old movies.

"That did happen, yes. If you want me to, I can tell you," Kimball said softly.

Wash just nodded. Despite his curiosity, Wash was getting the feeling that he didn't really want to know.

"After the cave crumbled, Felix brought them to the base. We offered to help them get you back, as long as they agreed to help us win the war. They took our offer and we made them Captains and assigned them platoons."

This made Wash raise his eyebrows in surprise. That probably explains all the formalities back at the mess hall. Then, Wash wondered if Kimball was completely sane if she had given Caboose and Grif platoons.

"One day, when Captain Tucker was on a mission to gather information with his team and Felix, he managed to get your whereabouts. He also managed to get two of his men killed." Kimball sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

Stupid. Tucker was stupid. If he was here, Wash would've yelled at him. He shouldn't have done that, he wasn't worth it.

"That's besides the point though. The place where you were being held was heavily guarded. I told them that they had five days to gather a squad and prepare to break you put."

"Five days isn't a lot," Wash pointed out.

Kimball stood up and started pacing around the room. Wash had to twist to keep his eyes on her. "I know it isn't. But it's all the time we had. Despite the small chance to get ready, they did it. The eight of them, with Felix's help managed to do it. They had a good plan."

"It didn't go right, did it?" Wash asked, his voice cracking.

Kimball looked away from him. "Simmons and Grif managed to find Sarge and Donut. Caboose and Felix held off the Feds. They couldn't find you. They were ready to leave without you, when they realized that Tucker and his lieutenant, Palomo were missing."

Palomo. Wash recognized that name. He had heard it recently, but he couldn't remember where. Maybe at the mess hall or something.

"Tucker had gone off on his own, only bringing one man with him for backup. I still can't decide if the man is insanely stupid or insanely brave," Kimball rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Tucker managed to bring you back, but not before Palomo had gotten shot. He dragged you both out."

The man in the hospital. That was Palomo, the guy who was in the cot next to him. He had had a bandage on his side, that must've been were he had been hit.

"They were about to get away, they almost made it," Kimball stopped pacing around the room and she lowered her head. "Smith was the next person to get hurt. Caboose was exposed and there was a sniper, but Smith threw himself in front of the bullet. Nearly killed him, he's still in the hospital."

Wash felt like Kimball was dancing around the unsaid words. He narrowed his eyes at her and stood up, pushing the chair aside. Wash crossed his arms. "What about Tucker?"

Kimball looked up. Their eyes met and Wash was surprised at the intensity of her gaze. She looked almost sympathetic. "Locus got to him."

Wash's heart thudded and he took a step back. "No," Wash insisted. Locus couldn't do that to him. Locus couldn't torture him like that from so far away. He wasn't in captivity anymore, Locus couldn't hurt him.

"I'm sorry." Kimball continued to look at him, even though Wash was now staring at his hands. "Locus cracked two of his ribs and broke one of his legs. He was shot twice. He's in rough condition, Washington."

Wash shook his head. This wasn't happening. He braced himself for Kimball's next words, dreading what she was going to say.

"He might not make it."

By the time she finished the sentence, Wash was already out the door. He had to see Tucker. He would get to the hospital wing and find out that he was fine, just teasing Wash. Kimball was in on the joke too. Wash knew it.

Kimball didn't bother to follow him, but Wash could feel her eyes on his back as he stormed away. Wash got many sad looks as he rushed through the afternoon crowds of young soldiers.

When Wash finally got to the hospital, he burst through the doors. Ignoring the medic's protests, he walked the rows of injured to find him. He passed Palomo and his own bed, which was already occupied once again. Then, Wash saw him.

Tucker was unconscious. He was even more cut up and bruised than Wash. A cast was set on his right leg and bandages were wrapped around his left bicep and his side. That must've been were he was shot.

Wash heard himself make a terrified moan. It was all that he could do to not sink to his knees. Tucker looked like hell.

Somebody pushed him into a chair and put a blanket around his shoulders. Wash couldn't stop staring at Tucker. At the rise and fall of his chest. At the red that was slowly creeping over the white cloth. At the little winces he gave every so often.

After observing him for awhile, Wash realized that Tucker had kept doing his exercises. Even though he was slowly dying, he looked fit.

Kimball had said that Tucker was a captain. Wash wondered if he was a good leader. Wash hoped that he had been a good example for leadership. Tucker outranked Wash now, so it looked like Tucker was the new leader of Blue Team. Church probably wouldn't like that.

"He'll be alright."

Wash jumped, then looked up at the man who was staring down at him. Wash didn't bother standing up. "How the fuck would you know?"

The man shrugged, then flinched as if the movement pained him. "He's strong. And really stubborn."

Wash eyed him carefully. He was tall, big enough to give Maine a run for his money. His eyes were a kind green, contrasting nicely against his dark skin. His nose was crooked and there was a ring through his lip. It seemed like everybody here had some form of body modification. Not that Wash minded, he had a couple of tattoos himself.

When Wash didn't respond, the man gestured to a nearby plastic chair, not unlike the one Wash was sitting in. "May I?"

Wash shrugged. He wasn't going to stop him. The man dragged the chair over to the foot of Tucker's bed.

They were quiet for a moment, before the stranger spoke. "He missed you."

Wash didn't say anything. He had missed Tucker too. In fact, Wash had often daydreamed about being reunited with Tucker. It was the only thought that had kept Locus from breaking him.

The man sighed. "Captain Caboose is going to be here soon. He comes to visit everyday after dinner. I'm sure he'll be excited to see you too. Does he know you're alright?"

Dinner? How long had Wash been here? Wash nodded in response to the man's question. Caboose had totally slipped Wash's mind in his worry for Tucker.

"That's good. Tucker being hurt can distract Captain Caboose sometimes."

Wash looked over at him. "You're Smith, right?" Kimball had said that Smith had taken a bullet for Caboose and the way this guy talked about him was as if he respected Caboose.

Smith nodded. "How'd you know?"

"Kimball."

Smith winced. "She probably didn't tell you that I'm perfectly fine. Kimball likes to prepare people for the worst by giving them no good news. Not the way that I would do things, but hey, she's brought us this far in the war. What I'm trying to say is that Tucker is going to be fine."

Wash didn't say anything else as Smith stood up and walked away. Smith was right, Tucker had looked worse after running laps around the canyon. That didn't stop Wash from worrying though.

Wash eventually had to leave the hospital, the medics practically had to drag him out. Wash wandered the halls, completely lost in thought. Felix found him and walked him to his room.

The next few days were like a dream. Wash did everything that he was supposed to do, he woke up, ate, visited Tucker, ate, trained, ate, visited Tucker agin, and then slept. Wash hated it. Everyone seemed to be moving on, seemed to talk about everything but the fact that Tucker wasn't waking up.

Smith was released from the hospital. That cheered Caboose up. Palomo started to get better, he was able to walk around now. Tucker wasn't awake to be cheered up.

Jensen and Matthews pestered Wash with questions constantly. Apparently, Grif had enjoyed telling the troops stories that made himself look good, so the soldiers naturally wanted to know if they were real.

Felix had once joked, "Man, you'd think you were married to Tucker the way you're acting, Wash."

Smith and Bitters had to drag Wash away from Felix.

When Wash got the news, it was a week from when he first woke up. He had been eating in the mess hall when Simmons came in, looking happier than he had in a week.

He sat down next to Wash, practically bouncing. Even Caboose, the cheerful one, gave Simmons a confused look.

"Tucker is awake."

Wash blinked in surprise and the table fell silent. Everyone turned to look at him, but Wash was just staring at Simmons, shellshocked. He was totally at a loss for words.

Grif was the first to speak. "Uh... Wash?"

His name being spoken brought Wash back to reality. Wash jumped up from the table and sprinted out of the mess hall before anyone knew what had happened.

Tucker was awake. He's alright. Everything was going to be alright.

Wash could almost feel himself grin as he dashed to the hospital wing. He shouldered past people without bothering to apologize.

The burly medic at the door stopped Wash from going in. "We're not accepting visitors until after twelve, sorry."

Wash glared at him. "No, I need to see him."

The medic crossed his arms stubbornly. "No visitors buddy."

Wash curled his fingers into fists, digging his nails into his palms. "I need to see him, let me through." Wash tried to walk around him, but the medic grabbed his shoulders.

Just when Wash was getting ready to hit him, the medic who had helped him on his first day at the Rebel base poked her head through the doors. "Let him in George. This is Washington, he's here to see Captain Tucker."

George stepped aside, grumbling unhappily. Wash shot him a smug look, then ducked into the hospital. The medic led him down the aisles to Tucker's bed, even though Wash already knew where it was. Wash could barely breathe as he caught sight of Tucker sitting up in bed, looking tired. A medic was talking to him, so he didn't see Wash approaching.

Wash didn't trust his voice, so he stood at the foot of Tucker's bed, waiting impatiently for the medic to finish up. Tucker didn't look too happy either.

"Alright, Captain Tucker. I'll leave you two alone. Holler if you need anything." The medic smiled, then walked off to another patient.

Tucker looked ready to ask what the medic meant by "two", but then he saw Wash standing there. They stared at each other for a moment and Wash racked his brain for something to say.

"So, you're a Captain now, huh?"

Tucker rolled his eyes at Wash. "Shut up, asshole."

Wash laughed happily. It was amazing to hear Tucker calling people names and sounding annoyed, even if it was at his own expense.

Wash sat in a chair next to Tucker, resisting every urge to hug him tightly. "How're you feeling?"

Tucker shrugged. "Alright, considering. My side hurts."

"Probably because you were fucking shot."

Tucker nodded. "Probably."

Wash sighed contentedly. Suddenly, the weeks worth of worrying and not enough sleep crashed down on him. Wash tried to suppress his yawn.

"You don't look so good Wash. You okay?" Tucker eyed Wash in concern.

Wash shook his head. He refused to fall asleep right when Tucker woke up. "I'm fine. Just a little bit beat up."

Tucker gave him a soft smile. "You can sleep here. I don't mind. From what I've heard, you've been watching me sleep. Better even the sides."

Wash gave Tucker a guilty look. Tucker refused to back down, he tugged on Wash's good arm, pulling his chair closer to the bed. He had definitely gotten stronger because Wash's chair almost tipped over as it scraped along the floor.

Feeling his resolve crumbling, Wash sighed and rested his head against Tucker's shoulder and groaned. Tucker laughed softly and ran his fingers through Wash's hair. Just as Wash drifted off, he thought that he felt Tucker place a kiss on his forehead.


End file.
